


Good Intent

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Manipulation, McLennon, Possible Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, george harrison is a cutie pie, i’m trying to be not cliche as possible, john might be mean, like way later, nice! jim mccartney, nothing too triggering, or maybe not here at all, paul is fourteen years old, so smut will be WAY later, there will be smut?? like probably later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul transfers school’s to Quarrybank. Soon he’ll meet someone that will change his life completely.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Good Intent

"James Paul Mccartney to the Principal's office, James Paul Mccartney to the Principal's office."

The teacher whose name was Mrs. Kilt turnt towards Paul who was seated in the front row of the classroom. Once the naughty students began to make, 'ooohh' noises and poke Paul's backside with the erasers of their pencils Mrs. Kilt shushed them aggressively. Paul stood up, hesitantly closing his folder along with his notebook as he placed the products in his backpack.

Paul's mind began its frequent racing as he turnt his backside towards his teacher.The young man's face became flushed a deep color of red by all the smirking little faces glaring back at him. Paul slung his bag over his shoulder, politely excusing the teacher as he rushed his way out of the classroom, he had then turnt to close the door reluctantly. Anxiety flooded through his system, and he felt his mouth go dry at the thought of his father finding out he was sent to the Principal's office. Mike would probably tease him to the brink of human extinction, especially by all the comparisons of their grades and how praised Paul was.

The hallway was empty, and all Paul could hear was the sounds of his shoes clicking against the marbled floor down hallway. The young man could hear his heart literally beating in his ears as he crossed his arms over his chest. Paul soon enough found himself in front of the door of the office, bringing his trembling hand out to wrap around the knob of it. After closing his eyes and reassuring hisself, he opened the door up trudging inside before closing it slightly firmly than he wanted it to be. Principal Shepard lifted his head up abruptly from his pile of papers, the middle aged man had then transferred him a genuine smile.

"Come, come sit down."

"Am I in trouble? I swear I didn't do anything- what ever I did I apologize! I'll make up for it- I'll work extra hard!" Paul blurted before he could stop himself, eyes widening as the words flew out of his mouth in a such a manner.

"You're not in trouble son. Deep breaths." Principal Shepard held his hand up, once again motioning his head towards the chair in front of his desk. "Come sit down, I have very exciting news for you."

Paul blinked in confusion, slowly pushing himself off of the door and approaching the chair. He sat down slowly, and placed his hands together in his lap while staring up at his Principal. As contrary to what the elder man had advised, Paul took gentle deep breaths to keep himself calm — although what had seemed to be coming out of his Principal's mouth was good news. For now, at least.

"Paul you are our star student. The most highest grades I've seen within the fifteen years I've been working here. You excel at everything, sports, history, math, reading and art. You're well behaved, you're well mannered, properly dressed and never late. You are never absent. I remember once when you came in with the latest flu outbreak, sick and frail but you aced the test that day." Principal Shepard animatedly explained how masterful Paul was at his academics, thrusting his hands in the air as he mentioned different subjects. "You're quite the charm in music class, as well."

"Thank you sir." Paul smiled, his bright teeth glistening in the sun-rays that beamed through the blinds of the window behind his Principal.Paul's adorably chubby cheeks slowly contorted into a shy blush. A rush of pride bloomed in his chest, and every worry that encountered his train of thoughts, dissipated almost automatically.

"So, with that knowledge," Principal Shepard began while he firmly straightened the set of papers out in front of him, "I'm transferring you to a higher school, in Quarrybank."

Paul felt genuinely flattered that he was lended an opportunity to be a tutor. A small rush of anxiety had did course through his blood at the thought, something among the lines of; was he even good enough? He also had never been to Quarrybank, Liverpool. Maybe passing by it a few times, but never enough to actually say he'd been there. "I- um, I don't know what to say. What will I do there?"

"Well, it would mostly be filled with kids above your level. You'll still fit in though because you excel the primary levels. I've had a talk with your father about it. When you get home today, he'll converse to you about it."

"Oh? Well ta sir." Paul smiled brightly, lighting up the whole office with his heavenly pure smile. "So when do I go?"

"The day after tomorrow." The happy gleam on Principal Shepard's face began to fade, "Although, I must warn you that Quarrybank is not as..clean as it is here."

"What do you mean?"

"Just stay away from a few kids that look like trouble, other than that you're fine."

•••

Paul cycled home, with the sun setting halfway in the sky which meant it was close to dinner time. Hopefully he would be available to rush to just see her once, just once for the whole day — that would be enough. In front of the hospital, Paul slung his legs from off of his bike and rushed over towards the door. As soon as he opened the double doors of the hospital ward, the smell of medications and antibiotics hit his nose with a burning sensation. His lips squeezed together in a tight line as he darted his hazel eyes around before walking over towards the desk, placing both of his palms upon it.

"Excuse me madame? I'm James Paul Mccartney." Paul introduced himself to the receptionist, who was smacking her gum deliberately loud, ignoring the fourteen year old in front of her. Paul sighed, and glanced over at the clock which made a tingle of anxiety run down his spine — his father would get worried if he was not home in time. So without thinking, the young boy whisked his palm down aggressively onto the platform of the counter top. "I said my name is James Paul Mccartney!"

"Yeah? So what?" The receptionist looked up, dark eye bags formulating below her tired eyes. Paul kind of felt bad for raising his voice at her, but he needed her attention and quick.

"I want to see my mum ma'am. I don't have much time." Paul softly said, while drawing invisible circles on the counter which meant he was nervous.

"What's her name?"

"Mary Mccartney." Paul sniffed.

"She's in room 108."

Paul's eyes lit up, and he excitedly grasped at the cold hand of the receptionist which made her slightly jump. He shook it rapidly with a smile on his face. "Thanks madame!" Paul called out, before running over towards the rooms of patients, leaving the receptionist slightly shocked from the sudden gentleness she hadn't received all day.

As Paul approached the door of his mother's room, he could interpret the heart machine and it sent shivers down his spine. While wrapping his hands around the doorknob, he gently twisted it to its left so that the door easily opened up with a light creek. His eyes widened at the sight of his mother, bundled up in wires and several machines monitoring her placed beside her body. Paul felt a tight knot in his stomach form as he silently approached his mother, he didn't have any room to sit so he just stood next to her. "Mum?"

Mary's eyes fluttered open to look up at her eldest son, breathing so dryly it came out as wheezes and little coughs. "Paulie?"

"I'm right here mum." Paul croaked, as he grasped at her hand which was extremely hot to the touch. Had they not been checking up on her condition?

"How're you doing baby?"

"Well I- I get transferred to another school," Paul began, and the sudden frown on his mother's face made him laugh nervously. "Nothing bad, y'know?"

"You know Paul, it's you know." Mary corrected him, which made Paul smile gently and his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Mary lifted her trembling hand to caress Paul's cheek, "When will you ever get rid of that Liverpudlian accent?"

"I'm try-ing." Paul pronounced the 'ing' in a failed posh like manner, instead of 'tryin.' Mary chuckled weakly, and squeezed his cheeks before placing her hand down on her stomach. Paul shuffled around on his feet a bit, feeling as if eyes glistening with warmth and slight fear of not being on time. He also did not want to leave his mother here, alone and hot to the touch.

"How's Michael?"

"Bad as ever, but he's fine."

Mary gently blinked her eyes, analyzing her son's features before closing them temporarily. "That's good, that's good."

"Mum?" Paul's hazel eyes widened a bit, set a-glazed and concerned at his mother. "Are you alright?"

"Just tired, just tired. You should—" She was interrupted by a cough, covering her mouth as several burning coughs racked up her weak frame. Paul backed up a bit as each one grew louder and deadlier, his eyebrows furrowing together in concern. "You should go home."

Paul was about to make an argument about how he should stay until she felt better, although she was right. Especially since he did not tell his father where exactly he went, and he should have been home by now. Paul reluctantly bent down to kiss his mother's cheek, a tear stripped down his cheek as he leant back up to leave. Uttering a pathetic, 'I love you' to his unconscious mother.

Paul cycled home, ignoring the massacre of thoughts riveting through his mind. As his bike parked in front of the bushes of his house, Paul quickly hounded off of the small vehicle and raced towards the door of his home. As an excuse to why he was late, he spent the last change he had to buy a carton of eggs. After rapping his knuckles against the homely door, his father opened it. Once he looked down at Paul his hardened features softened, and he pulled his son into a protective embrace.

"Hi, I thought we needed eggs." Paul said as he wandered inside his home, dropping his backpack from off of his bag by sliding it down his arm. "I'm sorry, I'm late."

"Hi Paul!" Mike's voice echoed from the dining room, in which Paul returned with a pleasant hello to his younger brother.

"Did the principal tell you that you'd be switching schools?" Jim asked, watching as his eldest son walked towards the dining room and helping himself to the meatloaf along with white rice, that his father cooked.

"Yes, but why now?" Paul asked, brows furrowed and genuinely curious as of what was going on.

"You're in a higher level than most kids your age."

"Oh." Paul grasped a fork from the utensil rack, and sat down next to his younger brother who was eating and doing homework at the same time. All the answers on the paper was wrong, and he could tell Michael did not care just because of the small doodles amongst the paper. Paul began to eat at his food, urging himself not to rip the paper out of Michael's hands and do his work for him like he did so many other times. 

Jim put the freshly cooked food away, and silently departed from the dining room with a can of beer. Talking seemed less shared between the three of them now, Michael and Paul talked all the time to each other, they still do. Jim is now distant and connected with his two son's since the diagnoses of Mary's breast cancer. Although sometimes he would try and be around for his kids, he felt utterly lost whenever they would try and play. Paul had just gave up, focusing on his grades and class work to distract himself from his homely life. He also wanted to make his father proud, which he did, he guessed.

"Tomorrow da' is taking us to the fundraiser event in Quarry, said you'll meet people and all that other shit." Michael finished his food and pushed his plate away, now erasing all the wrong answers from his homework to redo them.

'Oh so he did know his answers were wrong,' Paul smirked to himself, ruffling his little brother's hair. "Jealous?"

"No."

"You're smart Michael, you know what you need to do. You can be in the school with me." Paul smiled,

"No."

"I'm here motherfuckers!" Paul and Michael looked up, glancing over towards the doorway of the kitchen which presented George Harrison with his aid Richard Starkey.

Paul shot up and raced over towards George, while Ringo headed over towards the fridge. "Hey my da's home, you bloody git." Paul shushed George who only stared at Paul expectantly.

"Yeah? My fault mate." George said, going towards the table and slinging his backpack on top of it. After a few seconds of staring at Paul's plate, he began to smile. "Ringo! Fix me some meatloaf too!"

"On it!"

Michael, who looked very annoyed, began to dismiss himself from the table. Which gave the three boys appropriate alone time. Paul sat back down and presumed to eat as Ringo came out of the kitchen with two plates of fresh food. As the older boy put the food down, George took his plate immediately while he got his homework set up on the table.

"You got called to the Principal's office. Why?" George asked, shaking a few crumbs of salt onto his rice before putting it down to dig in.

"I- well you guys will be mad."

"No we won't." Ringo said, sitting down across the table with his mouth already full with food. "I don't know about George though."

George made a scowl noise, already marking down his homework as he ate. "I'm all ears Paul."

"I'm transferring schools. I go to Quarrybank now."

George choked.

Ringo looked genuinely confused, "Why though?"

"I have the highest grades, and I'm on their level. Well that’s what the principal said to me.”

If a face was a word, Ringo's would be; " _Oh_."

George's would be; " _I'm going to cry don't touch me_."

"I'm free tomorrow though!" Paul smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. George continued to silently eat, and Ringo only looked down with the loss of an appetite.

Oh boy.

•••

**Author's Note:**

> WOWIEEEE so basically i went back all the way to 2017 to find this all bunched up in my notes!! i seriously don’t know the plot of this story, & i already have like three?? four? stories to finish. Amaranthine is 2 or 3 chapters away from that green check mark. Pristine is not even near finished (okay i’m exaggerating, it’s halfway there.) i have so many ideas for Irenic but it may or may not make sense to to the plot so i’m trying to dissect it. but here’s a filler for a new story!! hope you enjoyed!


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